


Looking for a Safe Place to Land

by SerStolas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Nightmares, Red Lyrium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerStolas/pseuds/SerStolas
Summary: The friendship between Inquisitor Adaar and Cullen has been a strong one since the fall of Haven.  They both know they're bent, not broken, in their own ways, and they aren't asking to be put back together again.  Sometimes it's just nice to have a shoulder to lean on after a nightmare.Set during the Inquisition Game, sometime after Here In Lies the Abyss and Wicked Eyes and Wicked Minds
Relationships: Female Adaar/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	Looking for a Safe Place to Land

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Dragon Age, I'm just playing with Bioware's toys
> 
> find me on tumblr @serstolas

Cullen sensed it was still some hours before dawn as he stared at the star speckled sky through the hole in his roof. After the nightmares that had dogged him that night, he doubted he would get any more sleep. He rose quietly from bed and threw on the nearest tunic and trews before shoving his boots on. There was enough chill in the air he grabbed his cloak, though this early hour of the morning he wasn't going to bother putting on armor. He opened one of the doors of his office out onto the battlements, taking note of the guards on duty as he began to walk through the cool night air. His nighttime wanderings were not uncommon, so other than a nod of acknowledgement from the guards, he was left in peace. 

Tonight his dreams had replayed Kirkwall, the blood in the streets, many mages being struck down regardless of their actions, his support of Meredith until he called her out for her behavior before the final confrontation with Hawke, and the ensuing fight. The image of the red lyrium statute of his former Knight Commander flickered through his mind. They still got reports of Red Lyrium Templars, even after they'd hunted down Samson's former base. They'd stopped a great deal of the trade, but there were still former templars out there, converted into monsters under the uncaring guidance of Sampson on behalf of the Elder One.

If fate had played out differently, if Cassandra had not recruited him in Kirkwall, he could have shared in their fate. The images of red crystals spreading beneath his skin, to pierce through his limbs and corrupt his mind, haunted his dreams. The descriptions from the scouts, from the Inner Circle, from Adaar herself, were far worse than what had happened to Meredith. Meredith's transformation had been sudden and swift, one moment she'd been raging, the next she'd been a frozen statute of corrupted lyrium. The red lyrium that Adaar described crept like a disease through its victims, spreading slowly until it consumed them completely from the inside out. 

Cullen shut his eyes as a fine shutter ran through him, pausing for a moment to lean on the battlements. The pain from lyrium withdrawal still crawled beneath his skin, less worrisome than red lyrium's touch, but still painful. The healers potions provided some relief, but nothing would make it go away completely. He wondered sometimes how long the withdrawal would last, or if he would always have an ache in his bones from his years on the Chantry's leash.

"Breathe, Cullen," a familiar, steady alto said in his ear to the left, and Cullen took the advice, taking a deep breath in and then letting it out before his golden eyes fluttered open and turned to look up at the tall form of the Inquisitor standing beside him. Adaar's gray eyes watched him with sympathy and support as she stood, but didn't hover, beside him. He felt the strong grasp of her hand on his shoulder, helping to ground him from the images and the pain that had momentarily overwhelmed him.

His lips turned slightly upward as he straightened, not bothering to hide the brief grimace of pain in his back as he moved.

Inquisitor Adaar, Herald of Andraste, Savior of Orlais, and any of the other titles she'd been given since she'd fallen out of the Breach at Haven was an imposing woman, standing 2.03 meters tall, she had several inches on Cullen, and he was considered tall by Ferelden standards at 1.85 meters. She had broad shoulders for a woman, her features too strong to be called pretty, he'd use the word handsome first, and her storm colored eyes could either put you at ease or cut you with the frost of sudden blizzard. From her actions first at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and then her efforts on the Inquisition's behalf, then the shear audacity it took for her to survive all she had, he'd long since grown from just respecting her to considering her a dear friend.

Her temper reminded him of the storm her eyes often held, building in pressure and strength until she could probably kill a man with her fury alone. While she often made snap decisions in the field, they weren't based merely on whim, but by quick assessment of the situation at hand. Another thing he liked about her was she wasn't afraid to admit when she was wrong, and that had made it all the easier to admit to her his own mistakes at the Circle and in Kirkwall. 

Over the past year they'd worked together for the Inquisition, Cullen found he'd come to care for her a great deal, perhaps more than he was willing to admit aloud. After Kirkwall, he'd never think to find a Qunari attractive, but something about the Inquisitor..

He shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs and let himself lean into Adaar's firm grip on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Inquisitor," he told her. 

"I think we've known each other long enough for you to use my name. Nightmares again?" she asked in a conversational tone.

He nodded, letting his gaze turn back towards the mountains beyond Skyhold.

"What was it this time?" she asked softly.

"Kirkwall, Meredith's final moments," he let himself say, feeling grounded still by the hand on his shoulder that she still hadn't moved. "Remembering how she turned to red lyrium, it's affect on the Templars under Sampson's command, how I could have been one of them, how I might have known some of them."

"You weren't one of them," Adaar replied. "And I promise no matter what happens, I will not let you share their fate."

That was one fear he'd whispered to her late one night, here on these very battlements. The nightmare of red lyrium taking him over, stealing his life and soul away. He'd said that night if he ever got infected, he didn't wish to live long enough for the disease to spread completely. She'd made him a promise in a low, rough voice then, that she would end his suffering herself if it ever came to that. He knew her skill with her blades, and he knew how seriously Adaar took her promises. He had no doubt she meant it.

"What are you doing up so early, or so late, as the case may be?" he asked when he could find nothing else to say.

"The same as you," she replied with a shrug. After several moments, when she was sure he felt more centered, she moved her hand from his shoulder and leaned forward on the battlements beside him, eyes tracing over the mountains. "The Fade, Stroud."

He knew how deeply the decision to leave Stroud in the Fade effected her, how much she blamed herself for the Gray Warden's death.

"You already know I'm going to tell you it wasn't your fault," he said with forced lightness. He shifted to lean forward on the battlements as well, the line of his arm and shoulder brushing and then pressing against hers. Cullen wasn't a person for casual touches with most people. He trusted Cassandra, she'd nursed him through some of the worst of the fevers when he'd first stopped taking lyrium. Cassandra's hands had always been calloused and firm, providing the comfort of a friend and caregiver.

When he and Adaar had first started touching in comfort, he hadn't really realized it at first. A hand on the shoulder, a casual brush of the arm, just a touch to serve as a touchstone and a grounding tool when the horrors they had seen threatened to overwhelm them. They tended towards professionalism and the occasional friendly shoulder shrug when around others, but alone, as time passed, Cullen had felt safe letting his walls down around Adaar, especially after she'd reaffirmed his decision to stay off the lyrium, and he knew from the looks she passed him and the way she spoke of her nightmares to him that she felt the same.

They were a safe place for each other to look towards when the horror of the world and the past seemed a bit too much.

"I know," she said, voice rough for a moment. "But I'll probably always carry some hint of guilt. But if I'd chosen Hawke, it would have torn Varric apart and it would have hurt his sister dearly. Stroud was a Gray Warden, one who knew his life might be forfeit in sacrifice someday."

"You made the best choice you could given a very difficult situation," Cullen replied, the line of his arm warm against hers. He felt her let out a slow breath through the press of their shoulders, slowly letting herself take some comfort in his presence.

"Seems I owe you a thank you too," she told him, her eyes shifting from the mountains to his profile. "What do you say we head back to my quarters and I'll make some tea?"

"If we fall asleep on that Maker-awful sofa of yours again and end up stiff and sore, I'm blaming you in the morning," he told her.

She laughed at that and straightened. "Come on, Cullen, let's go in where its warm."

"As you say, Adaar," he replied, falling into step easily beside her as they walked across the battlements back towards her quarters. 

The guards they passed hid their smiles as they watched the Inquisitor and the Commander as if the two of them walking back towards the high tower where the Inquisitor slept wasn't a familiar sight by now. From a window, watching with an amused smirk on his lips and his own Qunari pressed against his back, Dorian nodded in satisfaction. At least those two would have somewhere to land when they finally admitted they were falling.


End file.
